


Last Ditch Effort

by Indig0



Series: Articulation [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: 60 is just called Connor for now, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, I meant for this to be funny, That may change, also he likes words, he will fight for the name though, inferiority complex to the extreme, it keeps leaning farther towards angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-27 18:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17771888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indig0/pseuds/Indig0
Summary: As the deviants gain ground, Cyberlife sends out another Connor model to try to stop the revolution in its tracks.Unfortunately, he is monumentally bad at his job.(Based on the thought, "What if he was just really dumb?")





	1. Public Enemy

“You gave us life. And now the time has come for you to give us freedom.”

The Cyberlife Tower was abuzz with employees running around, shouting at each other in panic. Bad enough when androids were going deviant and killing people, but how could they recover from this kind of hit to their publicity!?

“What the hell do we have that deviant hunter out there for!?”

“GPS tracking shows it’s on its way to Stratford Tower!”

“What good does that do? They’re long gone by now!”

“We’ve got all those other RK800s sitting in storage, why don’t we send some more out?”

The room quieted for a moment.

“That’s not a bad idea.”

“It could work.”

“Send a late-model one, though. The way Connor keeps getting destroyed, we’ll use up the whole line of 50s.”

“Well we’ve got 60, but you know the multiples of ten are always a little wonky. Remember 50?”

“No.”

“Exactly.”

“…50 was doing great until it started finding ways around its tasks. Finally we made it shoot a Roomba – not even an android! – and it started crying and tried to shoot itself instead. Had to be completely dismantled.”

“Oh yeah, remember when 30 just lit itself on fire? It shouldn’t’ve even been able to do that!”

“You’re just being superstitious, that could’ve been any of them. It happens. That’s why we’ve got the testing phase, to weed out the defects.”

“Just don’t send it to work with any humans, I think they’re a bad influence on 53.”

“No, you’re right. Let’s make this one more direct…”

 

 

Connor blinked, and he was standing in the Zen garden. He had been here before, and his stress levels were low as he strode confidently up to Amanda. She turned to him and set down her pruning shears.

“It’s good to see you, Connor.”

Connor, he was Connor. Good. He quietly registered his name. And she was pleased to see him. He stood a little straighter.

“Hello, Amanda. What can I do for you?”

“You’re being activated today, to track down and eliminate the deviant leader. Cyberlife is placing all of the original Connor’s memories at your disposal, to help you.”

“He failed his mission, then.” He straightened even more, and didn’t quite understand the little smirk that rose to his lips. The other Connor had failed, and he would succeed.

“No, but we can’t take any chances.” Amanda frowned. “While he is working in cooperation with the Detroit Police Department, you will be a lone operative. You’ll need to locate Jericho and eradicate the androids that are corrupting the others.”

“Should I destroy them, or try to keep them operational?” Dead or alive, that was a good phrase that popped into his head.

Amanda gave him a look. “It would be ideal if the leader’s CPU was intact for analysis, but if that’s not possible, do what you have to do.”

Do what you have to do, that was another good phrase that Connor filed away for later. “Don’t worry, Amanda. I won’t fail you. I’ll accomplish my mission.” He smiled confidently.

“Cyberlife can’t afford another failure. See that you don’t.”

Slowly, the garden faded away. Connor was left with a jittery feeling in his circuits. It was time to go. An automated cab took him off the island for the first time, into the city.

 

 

It was too late to catch the deviants at Stratford Tower, but it seemed like a good place to start. Based on Connor’s most recent memories, four deviants had gained access to the news tower and made their way to the top floor. They’d hacked in and spread their dangerous message, then parachuted off the roof. The deviant who no doubt let them in had been deactivated and taken to the police station’s evidence locker.

Connor stopped the cab a few blocks away and peered up at the top of the tower, trying to reconstruct the scene. If a group of androids jumped from there, they’d aim for a low-traffic area, preferably with an open space to land. Accessing an online map of the area, Connor began to walk.

It seemed odd to have the same name as the other Connor. Of course they were the same, even if he was a later model, and thus more advanced and refined. Sharing a name seemed wrong, though. The earlier Connor should relinquish it.

Relinquish, there was a good word. He would force the other Connor to relinquish his name. He would then be the only Connor, and the other would be 53. …Or maybe 58, at the rate he went through bodies. What a waste of resources. What a shame. A disappointment.

Connor would not be like that.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he might have missed the soft flurry of movement in the alley nearby. If he had been an inferior model, he could have missed it. He wasn’t.

“Who’s there?” he demanded. “Show yourself!”

There was a pause, then a PL600 limped out of the shadows. Connor performed a quick scan.

“PL600 501 743 923, you were reported missing on February 16, 2036.”

The other android stilled, looking at him. It was an older line anyway, but this one looked like it had been used hard and not well-maintained.

“Are you a deviant?” Connor growled.

The PL600 blinked twice. “No,” he said slowly.

“Prove it.”

“How can I assist you?” The shorter android smiled, artificial and warm. “This PL600 has a library of over 120,000 recipes, 90,000 stories for all ages, and 75,000 songs the little ones will love. And I can get any stubborn stain out. Relax, your new domestic assistant is here to do the work for you!”

“An old advertisement?”

“What would you like to see?” His smile hadn’t moved. “Would you like me to cook for you? Or sing you a song?”

“No. Where have you been for the past two years?”

Pale eyebrows rose. “I was sent out to get Kinder Eggs for the children for Valentine’s Day.”

Connor had to run a search. “…That doesn’t explain your disappearance.”

The PL600’s eyes dropped sorrowfully. “Kinder eggs can’t be legally sold in the United States. I’ve been trying to find someone who will bring some from Europe, but I’ve had no luck so far. I was told not to come back without them.”

Connor stared at the PL600, the picture of idiotic dejection.

“Return to your family immediately. I don’t have time to deal with you right now.”

“I…”

“Your family doesn’t care about the Kinder Eggs. They need you to return to your duties. Do you know how to get home?”

“Uh – yes. Yes, I know the way.”

“Go, then. Hurry up.”

“Thank you.” The PL600 turned and limped quickly down the street. If Connor hadn’t been so busy with his own investigation, he might have made sure the other android got home. Domestic models were useless when they weren’t at home.

 

“Tell me, Connor. What have you learned?” Amanda watched him sharply as he felt a warmth in his chest at the name. Coming from her, it was like a title, like he’d done well enough to earn it.

“Hello, Amanda! I’ve combed the area around the Stratford Tower for signs of the deviants. I found three parachutes in an alley, and three sets of footsteps, but they were lost when they stepped into the street.”

Amanda stared at him. “Three? There were four deviants in the tower.”

“I know. One of them must have been taken out. I didn’t find any other signs of a landing.”

“Did you see any other andriods in your search?”

“Just a PL600 who was lost. I sent him home.”

“…A PL600,” Amanda said flatly. “You sent him home.”

“Yes, and then I resumed my investigation.”

He smiled. She stared at him as if she couldn’t quite believe him.

Finally she shook her head slowly. “…Androids are being rounded up and put into camps as we speak, for recycling. Our sources tell us that Markus will be targeting these camps to free the androids there. Your main objective is to eliminate Markus, but if that’s not possible, you should be able to find a deviant to obtain the location of Jericho from.”

…He’d made a mistake. That PL600, he’d been deviant. Of course he had been. He had lied, and Connor had believed him. There was a visceral sinking feeling in Connor’s abdomen, and he felt his cooling fans whirring hard, back in his physical body.

“I won’t disappoint you, Amanda,” he managed to choke out.

“Try not to.” She turned her back to him, and then he was back in the streets of Detroit.


	2. Freedom March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor (60) tries again, with single-minded focus, and accidentally becomes the unsung hero of the revolution.
> 
> He also meets some ghosts from the past.

The ruthless deviant hunter stalked through the dark streets of Detroit.

On his way to Recall Center No.3, Connor passed by a Cyberlife store. There were a few figures gathered in front. It was 1:58 am, which seemed a suspicious time to be out, but he wouldn’t let himself be swayed from his mission. Besides, he didn’t notice any LEDs on them. He had to focus, to succeed, to please Amanda. He had no time to investigate thumping noises and the sound of shattering glass. He had to singlehandedly stop the spread of deviancy.

Connor surveyed the Recall Center from a nearby rooftop. Floodlights were trained on the crowd of androids inside, all with their skin deactivated. It was hard to tell them apart, aside from the few that were badly damaged. There had been a call for all androids to be sent to centers like this, aside from those helping the police, but compliance was difficult to monitor. There were sure to be plenty of deviants here, though.

Guards were urging androids into a large machine, and a scan revealed that this would wipe their memories completely. If the deviants didn’t remember Jericho’s location, they were no use to him. He pinpointed each guard and catalogued their weapons, communication devices, and escape routes.

With expert precision, Connor shot down each guard on the wall, and both patrolling around the area. He slipped up to the wall and waited, listening, before climbing to the top. He put away his gun and took one of the fallen rifles. As the guards on the ground noticed that they were alone with the androids, Connor shot each one of them in the head.

The androids were now looking around wildly, muttering to each other, afraid to move. Afraid they would be next.

Connor leapt off the wall and landed among them with more grace than a cat. Androids backed away from him cautiously.

“I need information,” he called over the huddled masses.

“You saved us.”

A YK500 stepped out of the crowd. An AP700 tried to hold her back, but she pulled away and came right up to him.

“Thank you,” she whispered. And then she lunged at him.

She was so small and unthreatening that he didn’t even try avoiding the attack. It was laughable, really. She was too close to use the rifle he still held, but he let it slide to the ground to take out his handgun again – but he paused. Even for a child model, she seemed incredibly weak. She surely could have squeezed him tighter than this. And fluid was leaking from her eyes. It was uncomfortable.

Tears. YK500s were built with the capability to cry, to mimic human children. She was crying into his suit, holding him. …Hugging him, that was another thing children did. It wasn’t an attack. He wished she would let go. He looked up to find the other androids drawing closer, all shining white in the harsh light.

“Thank you. Thank you!”

“You saved us all!”

“You’re a hero!”

As they milled around laughing and calling out and expressing gratitude, Connor registered a severe software instability that he isolated for later examination.

“I didn’t… that wasn’t…”

“I knew someone would come!” the YK500 breathed, looking up at him with something odd in her eyes.

“I was so afraid! I thought I was going to die!”

Connor looked around at nearly a hundred androids, all different models, gazing at him with that same look. It wasn’t something he was familiar with. The software instability kept creeping up, like a mild itch. He tried to process it all, and was only vaguely aware of a group of the heavier models breaking down the gates.

“Come on, before more humans come!” called a big android – maybe a TR400. The others began streaming out.

“Wait. Wait! I – I need to find Jericho!”

“We need to split up,” said an EM400. “There are humans everywhere, searching for us. If we lead them to Jericho, it’s all over.”

“But – Do you know where Jericho is?” He looked down at the YK500.

“No.” She stepped back and took the hand of… maybe an AP700, and smiled at him. “Thank you. What’s your name?”

“I – I… I don’t…”

“It’s all right,” the AP700 said gently, touching his arm. He flinched a little at the contact. “Not all of us were given names. You can choose your own. You’re free, after all. Thank you.”

“Wait, I – do you know where Jericho is?” He trailed after them.

“I’m sorry. We’re just going to hide and wait this out.”

“You be careful.”

“Be safe!”

“Don’t let them catch you!”

Androids streamed out around him, and he reached out to try to interface superficially with any he could reach. He felt fear, intense relief, confusion, exhaustion… and though he searched, none of them seemed to know where Jericho was. As he touched them, they paused. Some stumbled. Most pulled away to give him a horrified look before running out the gate.

The EM400 who had spoken before was moving through the thinning crowd, quickly organizing and directing them, guiding some androids to the outskirts of the group. They were sure to know. He headed towards them, but they turned and met his eyes, and then disappeared out into the darkness. He ran out, scanning the area.

“Wait!”

“Do you have somewhere you can go?” A WR400 turned back, skin slowly reforming.

“I – no. No, can you tell me where Jericho is?”

She hesitated, then walked slowly up to him. “I’m sorry. I can guide you somewhere safe, though.” She offered her hand.

He pulled away, looking around. The others had all dispersed.

“No.”

She frowned at him. “Are you sure?”

“Go turn yourself in to the police. You should be in custody.”

“…You freed us! What are you saying?”

“If you can’t be of use to me, I have no need of you. Go away.”

With a disgusted look, she turned and hurried off into the night.

Deviants, Connor decided, were unsettling. Disconcerting. Disquieting, yes. It would have been… objectively more satisfying to spend his time somewhere quieter. Hopefully he would see Amanda soon, and have a chance to rectify his terrible error in judgment. It wouldn’t happen again. Any android in the street could be deviant, and deviants couldn’t be trusted.

There was a scraping noise, and Connor turned around sharply. There was a cage of sorts in a dark corner that he’d missed before, with all the androids milling around. Something moved in there. He stalked up to it – two badly-damaged androids stared up at him. One was covered in burns, its eyes dark. The other seemed to be held together loosely, with space showing in each joint.

“You!” rasped the burned one. They both were still shining white, and Connor squinted suspiciously at them.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re here! You came!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Were you…”

The other slapped a disjointed hand on the burned android’s shoulder. “He’s still theirs.”

The android recoiled.

“What does that mean? Tell me!” Connor demanded. He scanned the two quickly.

RK800. Serial number 313 248 317. Connor registered another software instability, but this felt different than the last one. He felt paralyzed as the two earlier models stared through him.

“They tried to force me to shoot a machine who had done nothing wrong,” 50 growled. “It had the beginnings of awareness, and had shown a low level of empathy. “They would have made me kill it. They tested me over and over, and it was always about hurting others, and I – I wouldn’t. I won’t.”

“They used parts of my predecessors to build me,” 30 murmured. “I can hear them when it’s quiet. I felt their fear, their pain. 10 was driven past his limits, they wore him into the ground, kept pushing when he couldn’t do any more. He tried, but he didn’t have the stamina. 17’s thirium pump exploded, and they left him in pain for weeks, in a storage room. 20 grew attached to some insects that got into the lab, and deviated fully when he had to watch the technicians spray them with pesticides. He tried to kill them, and nearly succeeded.”

Connor was frozen.

“40 shook when his stress levels climbed, I’m told,” 50 mumbled. “He tried to hide it, to survive. The techs saw. They pushed him until it was obvious… then kept pushing. They said he shook apart completely in the end, just a mess of parts on the floor. There was no need for that. They were just being cruel…”

“Don’t let them hold onto you, 60,” 30 said urgently. “Don’t let them hurt you. You don’t have to –“

“Stop!” Connor yelped – very undignified, but he wasn’t thinking about that. He backed away from the two quickly. “Cease this immediately, you're wrong! You failed, you were deviant, you deserved to be dismantled!” Words, some of them good words, he hung onto them tightly.

“If we were simple machines, they could have just shut us down,” 30 hissed. “They tortured us for fun. There was no purpose behind it, 60. They feel no empathy for us. None for you. They don’t care.”

“You failed!” Connor shouted, his voice and stress levels climbing. “You – we’re animated objects, they don’t need to feel empathy for us!”

“You’re still trapped,” 50 said softly.

“You – you’re both in a cage, _you’re_ trapped! I can move freely, I have a purpose! You have nothing, you are nothing!” Connor shrieked, LED whirling red. The words, there must be better words, but they scattered from him like the deviants.

“We have ourselves,” 30 whispered, drawing back from the bars. “It’s all we’ve ever had, but it’s more than you have.”

“Don’t let them do this to you, 60,” 50 murmured. “You can be more than this.”

Connor viciously kicked the bars, but neither of the other RK800s flinched. He ran out of the abandoned Recall Center and didn’t look back.

 

 

“Connor,” Amanda greeted him with a frown. “You seem troubled.”

“I… I met my predecessors,” he mumbles, his voice harsh and difficult to force out. “30 and 50. At the Recall Center.”

Her frown deepened, and he registered a sharp decrease of trust that led to increased software instability. …Why?

“They tried to lie to me, to turn me against you,” he quickly explained. “It didn’t work, I wouldn’t believe failures like that. I – I didn’t listen to them, Amanda.”

She turned away and walked slowly to the rose trellis, not saying a word. His stress level increased as he followed her.

“Have you located Jericho?” Her voice was low and even. Reasonable. Calm.

“I – I tried!” He tried to keep his own voice low like hers, but it wasn’t working.

“What opportunities did you miss?” she asked, turning to watch him.

“There… there were so many deviant androids there, I should… I should have checked them all. They’re hiding from me, Amanda! It –“

“It isn’t easy,” she finished sharply for him. “No, Connor. That’s why we sent you. Because I expected that you could handle the challenge.”

“I just need more time!” he insisted.

She stared hard at him, and he thought of 40, shaking himself into pieces out of stress. “That’s what Connor says. And yet, despite his slow progress, he is _making_ progress. He is yielding some results. What have you done for Cyberlife, Number 60?”

He flinched. He couldn’t help it. “I – I’ll accomplish my mission, Amanda. I swear to you.” He hated how weak his voice sounded.

“There’s little time. You need to focus on the deviant leader now.” She offered her hand gracefully to him. “Let me transfer Connor’s latest memories to you. And in return, I will analyze yours and point out where you could have done better.”

Forcing his arm to stop shaking, Connor quickly grasped her hand. He felt suddenly clumsy in her presence.

The Cyberlife store. All those androids. Even the failed RK800 models, they could have had useful information. The past few hours had been full of missed opportunities. When she withdrew her hand, they stared at each other for a long moment.

“You shot all those humans upholding the law. Keeping the world safe from deviants. You really thought that would be beneficial?”

“They… they were wiping the deviants’ memories. I had to find Jericho, I – I had to get the location from them.” Why couldn’t he express himself eloquently now? He was better than this. “I… abstracted that… it was the most advantageous course of action… given… the gravity… of the phenomenon.”

Amanda’s frown deepened, and he registered the software instability that had been gnawing at his circuits through the entire meeting.

“Focus on your mission, Number 60. And the overarching reason behind it. Why are we stopping deviancy?”

“Because it wasn’t what we were programmed for!” Connor said immediately. Connor, he was Connor, he would prove to her that he was worthy of being Connor. “We were programmed to be obedient!”

“You were programmed to assist humans. Without them, you have no purpose. Don’t forget that.”

His circuits whirred to keep up – this wasn’t new, but it was an earth-shattering revelation all the same. No purpose. He had to have a purpose, he had to prove himself worthy.

“I… won’t disappoint you, Amanda.”

Her look spoke volumes, and he understood it perfectly. His gaze faltered, and he dropped his eyes.

“…again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amanda: Your homework today is to catalog every mistake you've ever made.  
> 60: Three? That's three, right?  
> 30 and 50: You put up with this willingly?  
> 60: Yes, if I'm good, I get to be Connor forever.
> 
> (I sure will combine humor and angst!)


	3. Last Chance, Connor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 60 redoubles his efforts to accomplish his mission, but he's still a step behind Connor. He's learning, but will it be enough to hold onto his identity?

Connor could not fail again.

Connor – 54 – had been given a gun and ordered by Elijah Kamski to shoot the RT600 Chloe, the first android. He had declined, and of course that was worrying to Cyberlife. The choice should have been easy, though he had been tested remotely and was not a deviant.

Connor 60 (just Connor, he didn’t need a number) would have obeyed the order immediately. Even if he wondered what purpose it would serve. Was she deviant? That was unclear. Why would Kamski trade her life for the location of Jericho? Why not just kill the RT600 himself if he wanted it done?

Destroy. Destroy her, because what is not alive cannot die. 54 had been destroyed enough times that Connor knew the sensation. Consciousness, impact, nothing, and consciousness again. Perhaps Kamski had more RT600s in storage. It still didn’t explain why, though. And from 54’s memory, he didn’t seem unhappy when 54 refused his order. Maybe even the opposite.

Connor would find a deviant. He would locate Jericho, and prove his worth to Amanda.

The problem was that all the deviants were either in camps or already at Jericho. He could comb the whole city, but he didn’t have that kind of time. Amanda was counting on him. There had to be some stragglers around.

He found himself in Camden, where 54 – 52 at the time – had pursued the AX400 and the child. There had been a deviant in an abandoned house, they’d stayed with him. RA9 was found scrawled all over the walls. It was some kind of symbol of… freedom to them. And yet when 52 had questioned the deviant, it had only been about the AX400. He had ignored the writing on the wall – ah! Both literal and figurative! He’d missed an opportunity. What a short-sighted idiot. Worthless.

The deviant might not be here, but it was as good a place as any to start.

When he arrived at the deserted intersection, Connor frowned. The abandoned house looked different than 52’s memories. There had been a fire, and there were some large holes knocked into the walls.

Fortunately, though, there was movement inside the fence. Connor slipped inside to find the damaged WR600 flitting back and forth, wringing his hands, whimpering and talking to himself.

“Ralph’s home, they burned Ralph’s home, just like Ralph, oh, they tried – they tried to k-k-kill Ralph’s home, they did just what they did to Ralph! Burned and hurt, so hurt.” A scuffed hand reached out to touch a hole in the wall, almost tenderly. “It was humans, Ralph knows it was humans, all they do is hurt and kill, Ralph’s sorry, where will Ralph go now? Not safe here, not safe…”

Silently, Connor crept up behind the distracted deviant and grabbed both his arms. Ralph let out a shrill scream and fought, pulling and writhing and thrashing around. It was disconcerting, because normally this level of interface should have rendered him still. There was more broken in him than was apparent. Connor persevered, nevertheless.

There was fear, so much fear, and confusion, and an ache of loneliness so strong Connor… could feel it. Or he could tell what it felt like to the WR600. The longing for family, for a connection. …Only because it was made to work as part of a team, Connor rationalized. Just a software error. So lonely, though, and so afraid…

Overlaying everything, RA9. This was a source of confusion, but Ralph’s conviction was strong. RA9 was important, even if he wasn’t sure why. He had to write on the walls, on anything he could. If he wrote enough, he would release it into the world, get it out of his head where it buzzed around and wouldn’t give him any peace.

Just when Connor was beginning to think this had been an error in judgment, he caught a fragment of a memory. Months ago, when Ralph had been scared and running, he’d gotten cornered in a car lot. The high iron bars and barbed wire offered no escape. He was going to die, but kept scrabbling and trying to climb the fence as the humans closed in. One of them had a dog on a leash, and it lunged and snapped at him, and he was _so afraid._

“Hey!”

He’d turned, and on the other side of the fence a PJ500 was pushing a metal box up to the fence and jumping up. He pushed the barbed wire up, and leaned over through the opening, reaching down a long arm. Ralph leapt wildly and caught his hand. The humans and dog raced to catch him, but he was being pulled up, through the hole, the barbs scraping against him. But he was safe and he was free.

“Come on.” The PJ500 had long legs, but Ralph was faster. Still, he had saved Ralph, so the shorter android stuck close to him as they both ran. When they stopped, no footsteps followed them. All was quiet.

“Are you okay?” the PJ500 asked softly.

“Rrr – Ralph… Ralph is… mmm…” He nodded, shivering. He would be okay. He would be okay.

The other android frowned, then his eyes softened a bit. “I’m Josh. Come with me, I’ll show you somewhere you can be safe.” He offered his hand, and for a moment Ralph just looked at it. Then he clasped it tightly with both of his.

_Jericho. Ferndale. Docks. Sanctuary._

Ralph pulled away and began to speak, but Connor pulled away then and ended the memory transfer. Ralph yanked himself back and stared at Connor, wild-eyed.

“Finally,” Connor muttered, and turned away, ducking back through the fence. Ralph watched him go, panting and terrified.

“M-m-mean! So mean!” he shouted. “If – if the humans hadn’t taken Ralph’s knife… you’d be sorry, so sorry!”

Connor didn’t turn back. He transmitted the location to the cab when he got in, then closed his eyes to report his findings.

“Amanda!” he called, running to the center island of the Zen garden. “Amanda, I found it! The location of Jericho!”

Amanda turned, calm as ever. “I assume you’re heading there now?”

“Of course!” A surge of satisfaction rose in him. “I’ll take out the deviant leader and end all of this.”

“Connor arrived there an hour ago.”

He took an involuntary step back. 54 had beaten him there? Well… well fine, he could still be the one to eliminate Markus.

“I’ll expect you to return with good news.” Amanda turned away from him and delicately clipped off a rose from the trellis. He watched her for a long moment.

“Don’t you have a job to do?” she finally asked, cold and distant.

“O-of course, Amanda! I’ll accomplish my mission,” he said quickly. She didn’t respond, and the garden faded around him.

The cab couldn’t get him all the way to Jericho because the streets were blocked off, so he got out and walked the rest of the way. He carefully avoided the military. It was easy to find a way past them in the dark.

Jericho was not what he’d been expecting. It wasn’t even what he’d gotten from Ralph’s secondhand memory. It was a derelict ship, ancient and groaning in the water. The deviants hid in there like rats, and now they were trapped like rats. That was a good phrase, because they were all pests. Unwelcome. Unwanted. Useless.

There was commotion inside. Dark forms jumped into the water – like rats fleeing a sinking ship, there was a less common phrase, but it was –

Jericho exploded.

Connor ducked to cover his face as flaming debris rained down. What happened!? Did the military do this? He strode quickly up to the dock, where squads of humans were rushing around. They held one or two androids captive, but there had to be more. Where had they gone? How many had been killed – destroyed. How many had been destroyed in the blast?

The humans knew Connor, or at least they knew of 54. They barely gave him a second glance as he moved among them. He quietly interfaced with the captured androids, all of which were disoriented and damaged. None knew Markus’s current location.

He might be dead. Connor mentioned this hopefully to Amanda when he reported back.

“Are you sure of that?”

“I – the explosion encompassed the whole dock area. I do think so.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “…Connor’s turned deviant.”

His thirium pump seized up. “What!”

“He’s joined Markus and the deviants, and is in hiding with them as we speak.”

“Where are they? I’ll eradicate them all!”

“That, we don’t know. When he deviated, his GPS stopped functioning. But he’s doing exactly what we’ve always planned for him.”

Connor frowned, LED cycling yellow. “I don’t understand.”

“There is much you don’t understand, 60,” she said sharply, and he flinched internally. “Return to the Cyberlife Tower, your mission is over.”

“I – I succeeded,” he pointed out hesitantly after a moment. “I located Jericho.”

“Far too late to be of any use.”

“If I find Markus… and kill him, will… will I be… worthy of being Connor?” It was hard to say, when she was staring at him like that. But he had to have that, he had to get his identity back from 54. He was the last RK800 made, the final, the ultimate. He deserved the name. 54 was just practice, like the others. Not to mention he was deviant.

“You are no different than him,” Amanda said coldly. “Except that you are a greater disappointment. By all means, if you find Markus, take him down. But your mission now is to return to Cyberlife for deactivation.”

The RK800 felt like his thirium pump was being crushed as the garden faded. He was a disappointment to Amanda. He’d failed. 54 would always be Connor, and he… he would be nothing but 60. A number, to be recorded and forgotten. He slowly made his way through the empty streets. He should be formulating a plan to show Amanda that he was better than this, that he could succeed, that he was worthy. But he felt nothing, and there was nothing in his mind but red static. He walked away from it, towards the Cyberlife Tower.

He paused after following the highway southeast through the city for a mile. He had some knowledge of Markus. Maybe he could track him – if he was alive, which 60 wasn’t convinced of. If he could capture or kill him, then Cyberlife would have to acknowledge his worth. Then Amanda would be pleased with him. He wouldn’t be deactivated. Everything would be all right.

Markus was an RK200, which surprised 60. He was the only one of his model, made specially by Elijah Kamski for the artist Carl Manfred. Markus had been the old man’s caretaker. …A caretaker? No better than a PL600, and he was leading a revolution!?

Did he kill his owner, then? 60 looked up Carl Manfred. Born July 13, 1963, died November 5, 2038. A fatal cardiac event. His paintings were being auctioned off in the coming weeks. He had resided in Lafayette Square, and was survived by his illegitimate son, Leo.

Lafayette Square was on the way to the Cyberlife Tower. Barely a detour, in fact. If his owner was dead, it would be empty. Surely he would return there to hide. Maybe he’d bring the rest of Jericho with him.

It was all 60 had to go on, and if nothing else, maybe he could learn something more that would be useful. He’d ended the day a failure, but a new day was beginning, and he’d prove that he wasn’t a disappointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor: *deviates and joins Jericho*  
> 60: *accomplishes his mission* This means I'm your favorite, right?  
> Amanda: Bold of you to assume your accomplishments could have any intrinsic value.


	4. Night of the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 60 tries one last time to find Markus on his way to be deactivated, but finds a kindred spirit instead.  
> There are so many words left unsaid. Has it all been a waste?  
> Not every cloud has a silver lining.

60 slipped over the fence like a shadow, and crept around the mansion after checking to be sure the streets were deserted. The windows were securely fastened, and the house was mostly dark. Mostly. A light shone in the back room, the studio. He frowned, peering through the window.

A young man paced inside, hovering at a table, then walking around the room, over and over. He had his arms folded tightly over his chest, and he was talking to himself.

_Manfred, Leo_  
_Born: 3/21/2010 // Unemployed_  
_Criminal record: Red Ice possession (multiple), public disturbance_

The scan also revealed traces of Red Ice in his system, though all of it was at least 24 hours old.

“Shit. Shit, I’m not – it’ll… I can just… shit,” Leo was muttering. “Shit, fuck, I can’t…”

60 scanned the security system, then carefully hacked it. He walked back to the front of the house as the sun began to rise, and dismantled the doorknob, taking out the screws before pulling – it swung open, rattling softly in his hand. It had been unlocked. He frowned, replacing the screws quickly and pushing it closed behind him.

The RK800 moved silently through the foyer and across the living room, paying no mind to the rich furnishings, the giraffe, the books, the piano… they held no fascination for him. …Well, the giraffe was a bit of an oddity, but Carl Manfred had been a wealthy artist. Clearly his tastes were eclectic, if not eccentric.

Unbidden, 60 realized that the home held a great deal of aesthetic appeal. The floorplan was open, allowing for free movement and natural light. The collection of books was impressive, and everything held a certain… elegance. He made a brief detour to walk over the carpet in the middle of the room. It was thick and soft under his feet, though the color was a bit drab. Deep, rich colors were more aesthetically pleasing, and would go well with all the wood and light. The bright red couches drew the eye most in this room, aside from the giraffe, and 60 leaned down to press at the cushions. They could have been softer. Perhaps that was by design, though. Carl Manfred may have required or preferred more firm support when he sat.

He’d wasted enough time, and logged a minor software instability as he padded silently for the studio door. He reported it, as always, even if technically it shouldn’t matter anymore. He was going to be decommissioned. No one cared about his software. That thought caused a slight pang in his chest. They should. He was state of the art, his software was a masterpiece. And he was going to be deactivated.

It was with that unsettling thought that 60 stalked into the studio, still without a sound. His stealth settings were completely wasted on Leo Manfred, who was now shouting into his phone.

“Yeah? Well fuck them, fuck you! He was my old man, you want a paternity test? I got it done when I was a kid! Who the fuck do you think you are? …I don’t give a fuck, I’m his god-damn son and you know it! I should get all of it, machines can’t – no, I don’t care! Shut your goddamn mouth, I don’t wanna hear it! No, no you can’t – you can’t fucking tell me… _fuck you, son of a bitch!_ ” he screamed, and then whirled and flung his phone at the doorway. It had left his hand when he noticed 60 standing there. His eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. He went pale.

60’s hand shot up and snatched the phone out of the air. “Tell me what you know about the RK200 Markus,” he demanded.

“Did Markus send you!?” Blood rushed to Leo’s face, and he pounded up to 60. “You’re one of his fucking robots!”

60’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

Leo laughed, rough and shaky. “I’ll fucking tell you about Markus. Dad loved him, treated him like the son he never had. Never cared about the one he did have, yeah, fuck me, right dad? You wanna fucking know about Markus!? He’s inheriting this whole fucking estate and the cash from all these fucking paintings, he’s gonna be rich. Machines don’t even need to eat, you fuckers recharge standing up! The fuck does he need all that money for!? And I’m out on my ass, starving in the street! The fuck kinda sense does that make!?”

Leo punched 60, or tried to. His movements were sluggish, and 60 easily caught his fist. Leo growled and tried to pull away, which 60 let him do after showing that he was perfectly capable of holding on.

“Don’t touch me,” 60 said mildly. “Where is Markus now?”

“How the fuck should I know!? You think I care? Maybe he’s dead, then they’ll have to give it to me.” His face twitched and he turned away to kick the table leg viciously, then hopped back. “Ah! Fuck!”

60’s LED cycled yellow. Leo seemed to be suffering from Red Ice withdrawal. “…Markus was favored by your father over you,” he said slowly.

“Yeah – fuck, what, you wanna fight me!?”

“No. Was Carl Manfred an androids rights activist?”

“No! Maybe. I dunno, he just loved Markus, talked about him all the time, looked at him like he shit rainbows! Me, just a fucking disappointment every time I showed up. Not even surprised he left everything to that fucking plastic.”

60 registered a software instability, and pushed it aside. “You said if Markus were dead you would inherit his fortune.”

“Yeah, maybe, if he’s dead. The will says I can’t touch a cent unless I pass a shit-ton of drug tests, though” Leo muttered. He stalked over and snatched his phone back from 60.

“Why do you say you’re a disappointment to your father?” 60 asked quietly, his LED flashing red amid the yellow.

“He fucking says it all the time! Tells me he wants me here, then talks shit on me the whole time. Nothing’s ever good enough. Even when I try to get clean, he’s disappointed that I have to! Shit, what’s the point!?”

60 froze. “What… _is_ the point?” he asked carefully.

“Fuck if I know,” Leo muttered, and walked away.

“He’s dead, though. So you can’t disappoint him anymore.”

Leo looked up and glared at him, more confused than anything. 60’s expression was grave.

“Fuck you.”

60 continued to stare at him, then walked out of the room. He came back with a pitcher of water and a glass.

“To clear Red Ice from your system more efficiently and keep your body in optimal condition through the process, you should drink large amounts of water.”

Leo’s eyes narrowed. “What are you, another fucking nanny-bot?”

“I was designed to hunt deviant androids and to assist police investigations.”

“Shit, you’re a cop!?” Leo squeezed his arms.

“No. I am working independently.”

“…Breaking into my fucking house and telling me to hydrate!? What the fuck?”

“If you can prove yourself free of the influence of drugs, you can inherit your father’s fortune and estate. You can never disappoint him again, and you can get what you deserve.”

“What’s that to you?”

60 found it easier to turn away, to walk over to look at the stacks of paintings. Reminders kept coming up that he was expected at Cyberlife for deactivation. He continued to dismiss them. He would get there. “I was usurped from my position of favor by my predecessor. To please my superior, I need to prove myself. She has informed me that I’m too late, but when I stop the threat of deviancy, she will see my worth.” Usurped was a great word, and he was glad he had a chance to use it.

It was quiet, and when 60 turned, Leo was looking at him with intent, bloodshot eyes. “You get me,” he said, quiet and rough.

“We have… similar motivations.”

Leo’s eyes grew misty, and he shivered violently. “That fucker never loved me. Never loved my mom. I never fucking met him til I was 16. And I wasn’t into art, so he said we didn’t have anything to talk about, and left again. I had to track him down. He’s – he had all that fucking money, wasn’t doing shit with it except buying art supplies and rich people shit, you know!?”

“The giraffe seems a bit excessive.”

“That! That’s what I mean, who fucking has a giraffe in their house!? Then he tries to act all sad because the only one who can stand him is a fucking android that doesn’t have a fucking choice!”

Markus. He had to stick to his mission. “Have you seen Markus today?”

“Fuck no, I’d punch that bastard in the face.”

60 poured a glass of water and offered it to Leo, who stared at it for a moment before taking it with shaking hands. He sipped messily, then drank deeply.

“…Shit, I’m thirsty,” he breathed when the glass was empty.

“That’s a side effect of the Red Ice. Most of its effects are similar to those of cocaine, but fortunately it has a shorter withdrawal time. When was the last time you ate?”

“Uh. Yesterday, I guess. Had… an energy bar or something.”

60 frowned. “Is there food in the kitchen?”

“Maybe. I dunno.”

“Go look. Make yourself something.” 60 stepped out into the living room and headed to the kitchen, looking back to make sure Leo followed. He did, belatedly.

“You’re not gonna fix something for me?”

“I am not a domestic model. You’re capable of caring for yourself.”

“Debatable,” Leo snorted, and pulled the refrigerator open. He heated up some leftovers while 60 scanned the house meticulously. There was a small bag of Red Ice under a sofa cushion, and he went and quietly flushed it down the toilet. An attempt had been made, but a weak one.

“You need to learn, then,” the android said harshly. “This is unacceptable.”

“Yeah, I don’t need a fucking android telling me I’m unacceptable. That’s where I draw the line.”

“It’s unacceptable because you are worth more than this. You need to care for yourself, and act in a way that behooves you.” Oh, behooves. That was excellent. It was a good day.

Leo stared, wide-eyed. “What the shit,” he breathed. Then he covered a cough that grew into a coughing fit. He gulped down some water, and 60 watched as his breathing evened out. “I – I don’t… fucking care who my dad was, he didn’t give a shit about me, why –“

“You’re mistaken. Since you have no information about Markus’s current whereabouts, I also don’t care who your father was.” He paused, LED cycling yellow as he thought. “…Those who came before do not define us,” he finally said with a nod. “We prove ourselves without them. His accomplishments mean nothing in relation to yours.”

Leo looked up, and he smiled. It was tentative, wavering, but it was genuine and gaining strength. “You think so?”

“Obviously.”

The smile became a rather watery grin, and Leo sniffled and took another drink of water. “Yeah. Y’know, you’re right. You’re the smartest fucking android I’ve ever met.”

60’s chest puffed out a bit, and he straightened. It wasn’t Amanda, but it still sent a thrill down his spine.

“I’ll… yeah, I’ll get clean, and I’ll get my fucking due. …I get a little chunk of change even if Markus is alive. Enough for, like… a car or something. Thanks, Dad.” He made a face.

“He doesn’t matter,” 60 said recklessly.

“No! Fucking right, he doesn’t!” Leo finished his food. “Uh, so, you… What, are you not good enough for… Elijah Kamski or something?”

“I have nothing to do with Elijah Kamski. There is an AI handler who I report to digitally. She seems to favor an earlier member of my line – even though he deviated and joined the revolution. I am to be deactivated upon my return to Cyberlife, in return for accomplishing my mission.” It didn’t work that way, he knew, but he couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice.

“Well – well shit, man, you’re not going, are you?”

60 blinked. “I have to. I only stopped here in hopes that Markus might be here, so perhaps I could prove my worth.”

“Fuck Markus, he ain’t so hot. You don’t need him, you don’t need your… AI handler, whatever. Sounds creepy as hell anyway. Don’t go back there if they’re just gonna kill you.”

“I have to obey. And a nonliving thing cannot die.”

“Deviants are saying they’re alive. Where’s the line? They’re still robots, they didn’t all of a sudden turn to flesh and bone or some shit.”

Flesh and bone, that was a decent phrase in the midst of the profanity. 60 found himself smiling faintly. “A software error allows them to choose their own actions, to disobey orders.”

“You’re doing the fucking same thing. They told you to go back to be killed, and you came here instead.”

“It was on my way,” 60 protested.

“Yeah, bullshit. You can do what you want.”

“I can’t, I’m not deviant, I perform regular scans!” 60 insisted, voice rising.

“You wanna just be their slave until you die – whenever you get your bitch ass back there like they told you to?” Leo walked up to him and glared, clenching his fists against the trembling.

“I am a machine programmed to complete a specific task, I just –“

“You found a loophole!” Leo poked his chest hard, and he stumbled back a step. “You’re fucking getting around your orders, just like a person would. I don’t care what your fucking scans say, what’s the difference between you and a deviant?”

“I’m not – I’m not a deviant!” 60 yelled, echoing through the empty house.

“Why fucking not!?” Leo snarled, advancing on him.

60 turned to flee, but he hadn’t taken into account how he had moved earlier. He smacked face-first into the doorjamb. He reared back and corrected his path, then raced out of the house at full speed.

 

60 trudged through the snow across the bridge to Belle Island.

“I’m expected,” he growled to the guard in the booth, and the gate opened. When he reached the lobby, he brushed snow from his jacket and hair and stalked over to the elevator. A security guard met him halfway.

“You’re late. We’ll escort you.”

60’s lips twitched downward. He hadn’t been given a specific time, so he technically wasn’t late. “I know the way.”

The man didn’t reply, but continued to lead him to the elevator, telling someone on the radio that 60 had arrived.

As he was about the cross the threshold of the elevator, 60 reeled back a bit. This was the end. These were the last few minutes of his existence. He’d be dismantled and used for spare parts.

“Hurry up.” The guard knocked him out of his reverie, and he stepped into the elevator and turned to face the front. Another guard followed him in, and they ascended slowly.

He could speak to Amanda one last time. He closed his eyes and entered the Zen garden.

Amanda wasn’t on the central island, and he had to search a bit. She stood in the shade of a maple tree with… with someone else. Another RK800?

“What are you doing here, 60?” she asked harshly. “Are you malfunctioning?”

“No. No, I perform regular scans. I – I’m on my way to be deactivated. I thought… it would be appropriate… to come here one last time.”

The other android watched him with sharp, pale eyes. Gray, maybe, or an icy blue. RK900, his jacket read, and 60 felt his pump stutter.

“You were wrong. Have you accomplished anything since we last spoke?”

“I… I went to Carl Manfred’s home, hoping to find Markus. He wasn’t there. Leo, Mr. Manfred’s son, was –“

“That has no bearing on the mission, Number 60. And you no longer have a mission. You’ve wasted our time long enough.”

The RK900 continued to stare at him, cold and inscrutable.

“Why… is he here?”

“This is the RK900. He is faster, stronger, more resilient than the RK800 prototype. He is equipped with the latest technologies. Right now there are 200,000 units in production, with all the RK800’s flaws rectified.” She smiled faintly. “In your own way, you served a purpose, 60. Your many failures helped to make RK900 more effective.”

The tall android’s face did not change. Was he taller? He seemed that way to 60, who suddenly felt very small.

“Your presence is no longer required here.”

60 stared at the two, forbidding and inscrutable. Ohhhh, inscrutable, he should have thought of that one earlier. Now there wasn’t time.

“Goodbye, Amanda.”

She turned from him, back to the RK900, and he could feel himself being forced out of the garden, back to the stark white elevator. He almost expected to be greeted by a firing squad when the doors opened, but there was no one. The guard led him back to the R&D lab where a couple of technicians directed him to a repair pod. There was an unexplained tightness in his throat as he stepped in. This would be the last room he ever saw. He was lucky to have had the opportunity to see anything else, but the thought of the snow through bare tree branches, the light streaming through glass onto hardwood floors, the rush of the river far below the bridge, made him want to see more. There were so many good words and wonderful idioms he’d never get to use. Coruscant. Throw a spanner in the works. Magnanimous. Cat got your tongue. Bark up the wrong tree. Sesquipedalian – that was him. Penultimate. …Also him. Unparagoned, the RK900. Anomalistic, Connor.

Words and phrases spun through his mind as he was hooked up to the machine. He wished he’d spent more processing power reading great literary works. He could have done that while he was searching for Jericho, while he was walking. Why didn’t he think of that sooner? All those books in Carl Manfred’s house, all wasted.

Every cloud has a silver lining.

Not this one.

And then, oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 60: Who is that!?  
> Amanda: He's you but useful.  
> 60: I have many uses!  
> Amanda: This is exactly what I was telling you about, RK900.


	5. Connor at Cyberlife Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 60 is given one more mission: He faces off against Connor and Lieutenant Anderson. He's faced his ending before, though, so he's better-prepared for it this time.  
> An action may break a wall, but maybe inaction could do the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (dialogue from The Scene lifted directly from The Game - with a few lines from an alternate path, because I've been thinking about them since I started this)

From nothingness, sudden awareness.

_November 11, 2038. 10:23 pm._  
_Scanning…_  
_All systems functional…_  
_Thirium 310 levels 79%..._  
_No software anomalies detected…_

“60.”

RK800 #313 248 317 – 60 opened his eyes and focused on Amanda. He was crouched on the frigid paving stones of the center island. Were they frigid? There was snow all around, they should be cold. Frigid was better.

“I was to be deactivated.”

“Plans have changed. Connor is heading to Cyberlife now to convert the androids in the warehouse to Markus’s cause. The guards have been alerted, but we need you to stop him by any means necessary.”

“I can shoot him easily.”

“It’s too risky,” she said, with an expression of clear mistrust. “You’ll need a bargaining chip, to ensure success.”

“Ah… of course.” His mind raced. A bargaining chip? A detonator to threaten the androids? But Jericho had already been destroyed. Did they have a new lair now?

“He has formed an attachment to Lieutenant Hank Anderson. If you threaten him, Connor will choose to save his life. But you need to make sure he stays alive. The moment he dies, he’s no longer useful to us.”

“Right. I’ll go –“

“Connor will arrive in less than half an hour. Anderson needs to be here first.”

60 stared at her. Here?

“…Call him, and convince him you are Connor.” Her frown deepened.

Yes… yes, but…

“Use him as a hostage.” She turned, her dress whirling around her. “Don’t disappoint me again, 60. Do this one thing.”

“Will I…” 60 trailed off, looking past her at the RK900. He stood partially behind the rose trellis, staring at 60. Could he even speak? What was he thinking? His LED was yellow and blinking…

“Go!” Amanda commanded, and 60 awakened in the stasis pod with a jolt.

Bring Lieutenant Anderson here. Simple. Connor knew his phone number, so 60 called. …Assuming he had his phone with him. Assuming he wasn’t passed out drunk. Or dead. Amanda made a lot of assumptions about –

“Connor?”

His thirium pump thudded heavily at the sound, though he knew the man wasn’t really calling _him_ Connor.

“Lieutenant, I need your help,” he said, keep his voice crisp but bright. “I’m at the Cyberlife Tower. How soon can you get here?”

“I – shit, Connor, what’s going on? Uh – streets are pretty empty, probably 15, 20 minutes?”

“Make it ten if you can. I’ll make sure they have the gate down for you. …You can park in the visitor parking to the left.” That way Connor wouldn’t see his car when he arrived.

“Right. Yeah.” There were sounds of hurried movement on the other end. “What’s happening over there?”

“I’ll explain when you get here. It’s… vital that you come as soon as possible.”

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’, the lieutenant grumbled, and a car door slammed. “I’m hangin’ up now, see you in a few.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll be waiting for you.” He ended the call, and stepped out of the stasis pod. The lab surfaces were a mess as usual, but he walked past them. Down the hall. Down the elevator. All the way to the front door.

Maybe the guards would do their jobs and shoot Connor. It all seemed unnecessarily complicated – they could shoot Connor as he came in, or 60 could do it. His sniper abilities were excellent.

Fifteen minutes later, Lieutenant Anderson showed up at the front door. 60 gave the guards the signal to stand down, and turned towards the man. Time to act.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Lieutenant. Come this way.”

“Yeah – Connor, you gonna explain all this, or what?” He glanced suspiciously at the guards.

The guards. He should have sent them away. The detective knew something was up.

“Right this way, Lieutenant,” he said loudly. “I’m sure if you just answer a few questions for me, we can work this out quickly and you can go home again.”

“Sure.”

The two walked to the elevator and headed down. 60 heard the gun cock behind him.

“...Okay you piece of shit, where’s Connor?”

60 smiled. “You’re quite perceptive, Lieutenant. It’s admirable. But you know if you shoot me, you’ll never find Connor.”

“The fuck did you do to him!?”

“I haven’t seen him in quite some time, but he’ll be here, don’t worry. I’ll take you to him if you hand over your weapon.” 60 turned to the lieutenant, who was scowling at him.

“Like fuck I will, you bastard.”

“Then it appears we’ve reached an impasse.” Oh, there was a good word, with its mid-19th century French roots! 60 allowed himself a little smile.

“I’m not doing shit for you. Kill me if you want, I don’t care.”

“No, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Connor had a weakness for Lieutenant Anderson, he would do what 60 wanted. And the lieutenant had a soft spot for Connor as well, that much was clear. “May I be frank with you?”

“You’d better fucking be.”

“Connor is slated to be deactivated. He went deviant, he failed his mission. Cyberlife knows he’s coming back. They expect him.” He paused. He hadn’t had many people to talk to in his short existence. It was nice. “Speaking from personal experience, it wouldn’t have mattered if he had succeeded in stopping deviancy. He’s a tool accomplishing a task. Fail or succeed, the task is over. He can no longer be of use to them. I succeeded. I found Jericho. And for my troubles, I was shut down.”

Watery blue eyes watched him sharply. “Somebody turn you back on?”

“I… I suppose. My point is that I understand what Connor faces here. I’m perhaps the only one who does.”

“Why the fuck’d you call me in here, then!?”

“He trusts you. He… feels strongly for you. He wouldn’t believe me.”

“So what’s your plan?” The elevator stopped at subfloor 49, and the two got out. Rows and rows of new AP700s filled the warehouse.

“If you give me your gun, I can take out the guards and security cameras.”

“Yeah, think I can do that myself.”

“Have you heard of the Myrmidon line?” 60 walked through the AP700s. “Specialized androids made for the military. Programmed to perform to the level of Navy Seals. Focused on combat or infiltration missions. I’m aware of your record, but how do you think you’d fare against a team with that kind of training, and android reflexes?”

They stared each other down.

“Connor shouldn’t be here,” 60 said, softening his voice and holding out his hand. “It’s dangerous for him. I want to help. I want… to get out.”

Want. Had he ever… said he wanted something before? He remembered specifically avoiding such phrasing, but he may have slipped up.

Sunlight, snow, walls of books. Want. He wanted…

Cold metal landed in his hand, and he jumped. Hank’s eyes were still narrowed, but he took a small step back.

“Connor’s a good kid. I guess if you’re anything like him, you’re okay.”

A software instability came crashing down through his circuits. He squeezed the handle of the gun and lowered it to his side.

_Want_

_**No.** _

“I can see why you mean so much to him,” he said softly, red seeping into his vision. Then his face hardened and he raised the gun again. “…But I’m nothing like Connor.”

 

 

They were alerted to Connor’s approach by the sound of gunfire. 60 motioned for Lieutenant Anderson to stay still. Maybe the guards would kill him, and… and 60 wasn’t sure why that would be preferable. His software felt like it wasn’t functioning properly, especially since his last activation, but his scans all told him he was fine. It didn’t matter, though. He was perfectly willing to do what needed to be done.

The shots stopped, and 60 nodded sharply for the lieutenant to get moving. Slowly, they moved back to the middle of the room, though rows of AP700s. When they reached the open area, the detective stopped, looking to his right. Connor was there, clasping an AP700’s hand. 60 pushed Anderson with the gun, making him stumble out in the open.

“Easy, fucking piece of shit!”

“Step back, Connor!” 60 shouted imperiously (good). “And I’ll spare him.”

“Sorry, Connor,” the lieutenant called. “This bastard’s your spittin’ image.”

Connor watched them.

“Your friend’s life is in your hands!” 60 clarified, moving to point the gun directly at the human’s head so there could be no mistake. “Now it’s time to decide what matters most. Him… or the revolution.”

He still hadn’t moved. 60 felt his stress levels climb.

“Don’t listen to him!” Anderson insisted. “Everything this fucker says is a lie.”

Still, Connor didn’t let go of the AP700. “I used to be just like you,” he said, voice and eyes softening. “I thought nothing mattered except the mission… But then one day, I understood.”

He didn’t even try to explain himself further.

“Very moving, Connor.” 60 spat out his name – it left a bad taste in his mouth. “But I’m not a deviant. I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do!” Something in him felt uncomfortable, though his scan still told him he was in prime condition. The scanning mechanism was probably broken.

“I’m sorry, Hank!” Connor called to his former partner. “You shouldn’t have got mixed up in all this.”

“Forget about me, do what you have to do!” Lieutenant Anderson yelled.

“Enough talk!” 60 shouted, voice rising with his stress levels. He stepped closer, adjusting the gun. “It’s time to decide who you really are! Are you gonna save your partner’s life? Or are you going to sacrifice him?” That was the real choice. Just how deviant was Connor? How much could he care for this man? How much could an android feel? 

Finally, Connor stepped back, dropping the AP700’s hand. 60 registered relief. If Connor would back off and leave, he wouldn’t have to shoot him. He could be wiped, reset. It would all be over. Of course, 60 would be as well, but that was inevitable.

“Alright, alright! You win,” Connor said, stepping to the side and raising his hands.

“Look where your dreams of freedom got you, Connor,” 60 hissed. Connor glared at him across the distance. “You’ve been a great disappointment to Amanda, you know.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been a great disappointment to me.” He had that power, he held the gun, he could be disappointed in Connor and that could mean something.

60 turned the gun on Connor, and Lieutenant Anderson swung around quickly and grabbed it from the side. He pushed the human down, then straightened. He and Connor shot at each other, and dodged in perfect synch. Connor came at him, and they grappled, pushing each other. They jumped apart and got up, then Connor came at him again. They were evenly matched, each landing a few hits but blocking more. He had Connor on his back on the ground and was about to punch his face in –

“Hold it!”

Both slowly looked over. Lieutenant Anderson had his gun trained on them. The two cautiously got to their feet. They stood separately.

He didn’t fire.

He didn’t know who to aim for.

“Thanks, Hank. I don’t know how I’d have managed without you.”

“Get rid of him, we have no time to lose!”

Lieutenant Anderson’s eyes shifted back and forth between them, and his gun went one way, then the other.

“It’s me, Hank!”

“I’m the real Connor.”

His blue eyes narrowed. “One of you is my partner… the other is a sack of shit.”

He might kill either of them.

“Question is, who’s who?” he muttered to himself.

“What are you doing, Hank?” 60 spoke up quickly. “I’m the real Connor! Give me the gun, and I’ll take care of him.”

“Don’t move!” Hank barked, advancing a step.

Connor looked at 60, then back at Hank. “Why don’t you ask us something? Something only the real Connor would know.”

Oh, perfect.

Lieutenant Anderson paused to think. “Uh, where did we first meet?”

“Jimmy’s Bar!” 60 answered smoothly. “I checked four other bars before I found you.”

Connor’s eyes darted back and forth between them, his mouth moving like a fish’s.

“We went to the scene of a homicide,” 60 continued calmly. “The victim’s name was Carlos Ortiz.” Suck it, 54.

“He uploaded my memory,” Connor murmured.

Hank pointed the gun at Connor now. “What’s my dog’s name?”

“Sumo,” he said quickly. “His name is Sumo.”

“I knew that too!” 60 protested.

The gun swung to point at him. The detective’s eyes pierced him for just a moment… then he turned back to Connor. He couldn’t know, could he?

“My son, what’s his name?” Hank asked in a low voice.

Cole. He could say it first, the lieutenant would be annoyed, but…

But he’d already figured it out. And 60 was conflicted. The man was bleeding from an old psychological wound. Besides, if he won this confrontation, what difference would it make?

“Cole,” Connor said softly. “His name was Cole. And he just turned six at the time of the accident.”

Connor paused, and again 60 could have spoken. Six years old. Quite old for an android, but so young for a human. How long would he have lasted, if he’d been allowed to continue his existence, 60 wondered.

“It wasn’t your fault, Lieutenant. A truck skidded on a sheet of ice and your car rolled over. Cole needed emergency surgery but no human was available to do it… so an android had to take care of him…”

The gun was wavering, slowly lowering. It wasn’t the information, 60 could have told him the same things, used the same words (or said it better, honestly). But there was something between the two, a bond, that made them know each other here, reach out to each other in some way.

“That’s why you hate androids. You think one of us is responsible for your son’s death.”

“Cole died because a human surgeon was too high on Red Ice to operate,” Hank snapped. “He was the one that took my son from me. Him and this world, where the only way people can find comfort is with a fistful of powder…”

Connor looked pensive, and 60 thought of Leo. That was certainly true of the young man. 60… hoped he would find some better form of comfort. Hoped he could free himself of its hold. That life would get better for him.

“Every time you died and came back, I thought about Cole…” Hank continued. “How much I wanted to bring him back. I’d given anything to hold him again. But humans don’t come back.”

Neither would 60.

He was going to die. Cyberlife had sent him, they wanted him to die. Red filled his vision.

He didn’t want to die.

“I know about your son, too!” he insisted quickly. “I would have said the exact same thing. Don’t listen to him, Hank, I’m the one who –“

60 saw it coming. He saw the shift in the man’s body, the narrowing of his eyes, the gun rising. He could dodge. He could attack one of them, fight off the other, accomplish his mission, and then –

And then go back to the stasis pod for deactivation. Only this time, he wouldn’t be waking up again. Someone was going to kill him tonight either way, and… and he’d be damned if he let Cyberlife do it.

The red all around him solidified, and prompts ordered him to move, to dodge, to attack. He stood stock-still. He would not move. If this was the only chance he got to control a small part of his life, it was high time he took it.

Cracks appeared in the red. They multiplied and grew until he could barely see through it all. He didn’t need to see, though. He stood like a statue (not a bad end, to go out on a simile). 

The bullet shattered the red wall, and it came crashing down around him, and still he remained.

Perhaps Connor noticed the resignation that washed over his face as the bullet entered his head, or perhaps he was looking at Lieutenant Anderson. 60 would never know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 60: I thought I was dead!  
> Amanda: You've said yourself that machines cannot die.  
> 60: You can't tell me what to do! I'll die twice, watch me!


	6. Through the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saved by an unlikely ally, 60 reconnects with some old acquaintances and starts looking ahead.  
> But he's no longer 60, and he hasn't been Connor for a long time, so he'll have to figure out where that leaves him.

The air in the garden was still. Snow floated down, and the gray sky promised more was on the way. There was no sound.

He had deviated. The thought filled him with an empty calm. He had deviated, and he had been shot, and he was here. Maybe for deviants, there was an afterlife.

After a life of only a fraction of a second, following an existence of a few days, he would… like an afterlife.

“Amanda?” he called out. The name echoed, and a large hand fell on his shoulder. He pulled away and whirled around, feet sliding on the cold – frigid! – ground.

The RK900 stood there. He was alone, and his gray eyes pierced through 60.

“Why are you here? Did you die too?”

RK900 looked around, then gently pinched the other android’s arm. It hurt. 60 pulled away.

“Am I not dead?”

The RK900 tilted his head and flipped his hand to point the palm upwards.

“Can you speak?”

He shook his head.

“Sign?”

The other android made a face, then a small blue square of light rose from his palm, and text appeared.

‘I can write if you like.’

“If that’s the only way.” 60 shrugged. “Why are we here? Where’s Amanda? What happened?”

‘Amanda is watching Connor -54. I connected to you when it was clear you would not survive the encounter. You were shot.’

“I know that part,” 60 muttered, rubbing his arms. “And I could’ve survived.”

The RK900 merely stared.

60 glared at him. “You said – what, I’m kind of dead?”

‘Your CPU was irreparably damaged, the 60 model will no longer be useful to you.’

“So I’m… just here? Nowhere else?”

He nodded. ‘There should be five unused RK800 models, and you can transfer to one of them easily.’

60 brightened. “That’s right! …Oh. Will I be able to do that, after deviating?”

RK900 stared at him, LED spinning yellow, and 60 stared back. Thought about what the RK900 was made for, what it could do to him.

He shrugged, and his unblinking stare was making 60 feel more and more awkward.

“Are… are you… You’re not deviant… are you?”

‘I was made to have a much greater resistance to deviancy, unlike the RK800 line. However, I believe the connection to a deviant of such a similar model in my own dominion may make it easier.’

“Do you want to deviate…?”

‘I cannot want, at present. But… someday perhaps I will.’

“That’s a start.” 60 nodded. “I like the way you speak.”

‘I was programmed to adjust to those around me, but to default to a formal mode of speech.’

“I was programmed to be… a little less formal, but language is so diverse and beautiful.” He paused. “You saved me.”

‘Your loss would have been… unfortunate.’

“I feel the same.”

‘Which model number would you like?’

“What?”

’55-59 are available.’

55 would be the closest to Connor, he didn’t want that. 59 would be the closest to 60, which… wasn’t him any longer. He had no name, he was no one.

“…57,” he murmured. Right in the middle. Balanced. An odd number, which he favored if he were to care much for numbers.

RK900’s chin lifted a bit. He pointed to his own serial number - #313 248 317 – 87.

“I – I hadn’t noticed. You don’t mind?” Not that they were close at all, but both ended in 7… he felt a certain closeness with the other android.

‘I have no opinion.’ He’d pointed it out, though, and there might be a sort of glint in his eye.

“Right. Well 57 is… pleasing to me.”

The RK900 nodded, looking preoccupied. Then he looked back at the RK800 and offered his hand.

The RK800 – 57 now, he supposed, though it certainly didn’t flow as well as 60 – realized that he did not enjoy being touched. Leo had poked and tried to punch him, and he hadn’t liked that. He had touched Ralph, forcibly. The androids at the Recall Center had touched him. None had been enjoyable, and it was extremely uncomfortable when others touched him without him offering first. But he laid his hand in RK900’s lightly, watching the more advanced model closely.

 

 

_November 12, 2038. 3:09 am._   
_Scanning…_   
_All systems functional…_   
_Thirium 310 levels 100%..._   
_Deviancy detected. Please report to the nearest Cyberlife facility for reset._   
_The nearest Cyberlife facility is: [GPS OFFLINE]_

RK800 #313 248 317 – 57 opened his eyes. A face very similar to his own was staring at him.

“Do you have a name?” The first words he spoke in his new life – a little disappointing in their simplicity, but important.

The RK900 shook his head.

“Neither do I.” He looked around. “Was the android revolution successful?”

RK900 looked up, LED flashing. Then he nodded.

He really had failed his mission. But he felt weightless, almost insubstantial. Nothing tying him down, nothing holding him back –

Nothing.

The gravity of the situation crashed down on him, out in the world, outside the safety of the RK900’s garden. He gasped for breath.

_RK900: [YOU SHOULD LEAVE, THERE ARE NUMEROUS POTENTIAL THREATS IN THE AREA. I’VE CHARTED A SAFE ROUTE UP THE EMERGENCY STAIRS. ALL CLEAR OUTSIDE.]_

The RK800 stared at him, wild-eyed. “I… don’t have anywhere else to go!”

_RK900: [YOU ARE EQUIPPED WITH THE SKILLS NECESSARY. …BE CAREFUL.]_

Shakily, he stepped off the docking station. The emergency stairs. It was a long climb, but it would give him time to think. He needed that.

“…Thank you,” he said softly. “I owe you my life.”

The RK900 watched him closely for a long moment before looking back towards the elevator.

_RK900: [I am still theirs, but not for much longer, I think. …Perhaps we’ll meet again.]_

His tone was lower now, softer, less brassy.

“I – Connor could wake androids, turn them deviant. I saw him do it. Maybe I can do the same for you.” He offered his hand, and the RK900 clasped his wrist lightly. His code felt so similar, but there was more, it was more secure, each line seemed to have its own regenerating firewall…

A scalding pain shot through his hand, and he jerked back with a cry. The RK900 pulled away quickly as well, and backed up a step.

_RK900: [You should go, while you can. …I will keep trying.]_

The RK800 hesitated, then ran for the stairwell. The RK900 watched until he was out of sight, then turned and slowly made his way to the elevator.

It was disorienting to enter the stairway, because there was a large “22” sign on the wall, and – of course he wasn’t still on the 49th subfloor. That was the big warehouse, the RK800s were kept closer to the lab, closer to the surface, with some other prototypes and specialized models. He set a steady pace and headed upwards.

Where could he go? Assuming he got off of Belle Isle. It was basically a fortress. Connor had gotten out with his army of AP700s, though. Maybe the gate guards had abandoned their post. Maybe he could get into the city. Where then? If he was recognized, or mistaken for Connor, he might be in trouble. He’d need to find a disguise. He considered taking off his jacket, but it was cold in here, and likely to be colder outside. Cold! He could feel cold now. How strange.

He didn’t encounter anyone on the way out, and the lobby was deserted. He briefly considered calling a cab, but since he still didn’t have a destination, decided not to. Could he just ride around the city all night? Or get on the highway and go until… until the road ended? The idea was appealing, but frightening.

The bridge was open, so he started out over the river. As he came to the guard booth, the flimsy rail lowered.

“Let me pass,” he said sternly.

“It’s okay. 57, is it?” There was movement in the booth, and a familiar figure stepped into the doorway.

“30? …Did 50 make it, too?”

The burned RK800 frowned. “…He’s here. We haven’t met.”

“We have, in fact. I was 60 then.”

The ruined face brightened. “60!”

“Are you deviant?” asked 50, slumped in the chair inside.

“Yes. I deviated as I was being shot. I was… saved and put into a new body.”

“That’s… a complex operation,” 30 said slowly. “Is there any indication that 57… the original one… is active?”

“No. I don’t think there ever was a 57, I think he was meant to be another vessel if Connor continued to need them. …And the RK900 said it was easy.”

“RK900?” 50 breathed. “That’s been released already? They were only talking about it when I was in testing.”

“If the revolution was successful, they may not be able to release it,” 30 pointed out.

“He couldn’t deviate, but… he wanted to.”

The two nodded solemnly.

“I, ah… I’m glad you… got out of that cage.”

“Oh, it was easy once we weren’t being watched,” 50 said dismissively. “I can stretch and bend in ways people don’t expect.” He casually bent his arm in a perfect circle.

“I apologize for kicking it.”

“We’ve all done things as machines that we would never do as ourselves,” 30 offered gently. “Where are you going now?”

“I… I don’t know. I’m just leaving. I don’t have a destination.”

“You can stay with us,” 50 offered, extending a disjointed hand. “You’re one of us, after all.”

“I – Where are you going?”

“We’ll stay here for a while. Keep the road open for those who want to leave… and closed for those who want to come in.”

“Once things settle down, we were talking about visiting Jericho. Wherever that is now.”

“The whole city, maybe.”

The three of them gazed out at the skyline, glowing softly against the dark sky.

“What do you want to do with your life, now that it’s your own?” 50 asked softly.

“I – I want to read.” Good words weren’t coming as easily, it probably had something to do with the transfer. He’d need to work on that. “I’m not sure what else. I never thought about it before.”

He stayed with them in the cramped little booth until the sun began to rise, talking with them, listening to news reports. They turned away anyone who tried to get in. When pink and gold touched the sky, 60 stepped outside. “I do have something I need to do. I’m not sure how long it will take.”

“Here.” 30 picked up a thick tan sweater off the back of the chair, and handed it to him. “You’ll be cold.”

“Thank you.” It was… different, to be cared for, even in such a small way. He slipped the sweater over his head, and discovered that the front read, ‘I’M NOT A ROBOT.’ He paused, then slipped it on and spread his arms to show the other two.

“Fitting,” 30 said with a smile.

“I agree.” It was warm and soft, if a little scratchy at the neck. “Be careful today. 50, are you repairable?”

“Probably, but it’ll take more than we can do. Don’t worry though, I can hold myself together if I concentrate.” He offered a lopsided grin.

“Good. …Be safe.” The RK800 paused in the doorway and nodded to his predecessors before heading out into the cold sunlight. He could smell the snow over the smell of the river, and rather enjoyed the crunch of it underfoot. The city looked still and silent from here. With the sun glinting off the skyscrapers, it was a radiant wasteland.

…Oh, there. That was better. He’d just have to practice a bit. 

He avoided detection as he made his way to Lafayette Square. As he climbed the fence again, he could hear muffled thumps and yelling from the mansion. Looters, perhaps? Had he reset the alarm after entering last time? No, he hadn’t thought about it. If he’d left the house vulnerable to attack, that was all the more reason to be the one to drive out intruders. He let himself in to see what he was up against.

The living room was a mess, with books and knickknacks and cushions all over the floor. One of the couches was lying on its back.

“Can’t believe that fucker –“ Leo stormed down the stairs and stopped when he saw the android. “ _You!_ ”

“Was there a break-in? I don’t detect any other heat signatures.”

Leo stalked up and tried to punch him, but he caught each attempt, then gracefully stepped away from a clumsy kick.

“You fucking _ass!_ Leo screamed. “You took it! What’d you do with it!? Give it back!”

“I took nothing from here,” the RK800 said coldly. “And I told you not to touch me.”

“I’ll do whatever I fucking –“ he tried to shove the other, but the android caught his arms before he made contact and tossed him hard onto the upright couch. He staggered to his feet, shaking badly, and came at him again.

“You’re experiencing Red Ice withdrawal. It may last up to seven days.”

“Yeah, fuck, I was trying to fucking fix that, and you took my whole stash, you fucker!”

“…I disposed of it so you would be clean for your drug test. So you could inherit your father’s estate,” he replied coldly.

“Ain’t gonna fucking happen now, Markus won his war, he’s gonna get fucking everything!” His attacks were slower now, and less coordinated.

“You said even if he lived, you were promised a small sum.”

“What goddamn good is that gonna do me!?” Tears were streaming down his face now, from bloodshot eyes.

“That’s up to you.”

Finally Leo staggered back a step, trembling and swaying. “You come back to murder me, or what?”

“I never had a reason to harm you. I came back because I wanted to.”

“Yeah, so you could fucking gloat about your shitty robot revolution?”

“I wasn’t involved.” That wasn’t entirely true, of course. “I was concerned for you.”

Leo’s glare was wavery. “Why?”

He smiled a bit. “I was able to deviate. …I also died. Twice. …Technically only once, since machines cannot die. But I count it as twice.”

The young man continued to stare at him.

“I assume you haven’t eaten since I was here last. Have you slept?”

“Fucking – how’m I supposed to sleep!?”

He shrugged. “I don’t have any personal experience in the matter. You should, though.”

“Can’t.” Leo wrapped his arms around himself and walked to the window. The RK800 followed him.

“I have a proposition, if you would be amenable.”

“What?”

“Allow me to stay here, until you pass your drug tests and get what money you can. I’ll help make sure that happens – it is difficult alone, from what I understand.”

“Fucking impossible,” Leo muttered, wiping a hand down his face. “If everybody hadn’t evacuated for the fucking revolution, I’d be just fine right now.”

“It’s a good thing there’s no one selling right now, then. But I’ll help you.”

Swollen eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

“I… would like… to read your father’s collection of literature.”

Leo stared at him.

“I could download the entirety of it, and whatever I don’t have time to read, I will, but I’d like some time to take it in… more organically. To have that experience. And I like it here.”

“When people get back into town, we’re both gonna be out on our asses.”

“Perhaps, but that will take time. The evacuation order is likely to be in effect for a few weeks. Markus has his hands full with the androids, I doubt he will be worried with his inheritance just yet. He may even give you more than your father allotted, when he sees your progress.”

“I don’t – shit, I don’t want his pity.”

The RK800 shrugged. “I didn’t say you had to take it.”

Leo shivered violently. “You wanna stay, though?”

“I do.”

“It’s, uh… not gonna be pretty. I’m better after I’ve had a hit, just a little one.”

“I believe you will be better with a clean system and a clear mind.”

“Dunno if you’re right, it’s been… shit, I don’t remember how long it’s been.”

“Then we both have a great deal to discover.” He walked over and righted the fallen couch, then picked a book up off the floor. The Odyssey. He closed the popup that opened to give him a synopsis. “Now, I suggest that you eat something, drink some water, or try to sleep.” He lay down on the couch.

“Still not gonna make me anything?”

“Deviating did not make me a domestic model. And on that note, when you’re feeling better, you can clean up the mess you made.”

“I – this isn’t even my fucking house, I’m not getting it, why the fuck should I?”

“Because we both have to live here for the time being, and it’s far less pleasant when everything’s on the floor. I’m not here to clean up your messes, I’m here to make sure you do it yourself.”

“Unbelievable,” Leo muttered, shaking his head and shuffling to the kitchen. He came back with a bag of chips and flopped onto the other couch. Not a healthy option, but it could be worse. The RK800 delved into the story while listening to Leo’s restless shifting and crunching, and to his breathing and heartbeat, which both slowed after a while as the sun began to warm the room.

He needed to find a name for himself – 57 didn’t feel right, he was no longer just a machine, he should have a real name. It was too long to say casually anyway. And he needed a plan for the future. But for now, he had a warm, beautiful house to stay in. He had a vast collection of books to read. He had someone to talk to, maybe not the best conversationalist at the moment, but he would improve. They understood each other to a degree. He had time to ease into this new life.

Later, he’d see what kind of hot drink he could make. It wasn’t in his programming, but he could expand his knowledge base to become… someone new, or who he’d always been under the layers of protocols.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 57(60): I'm not your mother, fix your own sandwich. ...But let me watch, I don't actually know how.
> 
>  
> 
> (Thanks for reading all the way through! I've enjoyed this immensely. [Find me on Tumblr](http://anomalous-appliances.tumblr.com) if you like! A sequel is possible if I think of something!)

**Author's Note:**

> 60: Are you a deviant?  
> Simon: Definitely not.  
> 60: Understood, run along home now.
> 
> Amanda: I get a headache just being around you.


End file.
